302am
by allthegoodpennamesweretaken85
Summary: Foggy gets a call he's been dreading since he found out about Matt's nocturnal habits. First in a series of one-shots (hopefully).


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Nada.

 _ **Post Season One. First in a series of one-shots (depending how much you guys like it!). Swearing, but nothing more major than what is on the show.**_

 _ **Foggy gets a call he's been dreading since he found out about Matts nocturnal habits.**_

 **Breadcrumbs Series: Part One**

 **3:02 AM**

Foggy woke with a start, the loud vibration of his phone ringing against his wooden bed side table abruptly ending his dreams. It had been such a pleasant dream too, but it was over now, never mind. He looked at the caller ID, wincing slightly from the brightness of the screen.

"Jesus, Matt." He answered, "You know it's like," He moved the phone away from his ear to check the time. "It's 3.02am." He sat up in his bed as he began the quickly think through every reason Matt might be phoning him at 3.02am. "Are you ok?" He couldn't hide the concern and slight edge of panic in his voice. He knew Matt would pick up on it anyway, so why bother. "Matt?" He spoke again when the other man didn't speak.

"Foggy." Matt's voice sounded far away, but there was something else, Foggy couldn't place it. "Erm… Sorry, I know it's late, or early." His breathing was heavy down the line.

"What's wrong?" Foggy asked, his concern growing. "Are you at your place? Are you ok?"

Matt didn't answer right away. There was more heavy breathing, a groan or two. Foggy was about to just head over to Matt's regardless when he spoke. "Yea. Can you…." Another pained groan.

"I'm coming over." Foggy said, phone held under his chin as he pulled the nearest pair of shoes he could find onto his feet, not bothering to change his check flannel pyjama pants. He pulled on an old grey zip up hoodie and grabbed his keys and wallet. "What happened? Are you ok?"

Matt coughed slightly. "Kinda."

"Kinda?" Foggy repeated. "I thought that new suit was supposed to protect you or something." He said, looking around the streets for a cab. Typically, when you really needed a cab, there were none. He started briskly walking in the direction of Matts place hoping to pick up a cab on the way.

"Yea," Matt said, trying but failing to stifle a pained grunt. "It doesn't work so well against bullets." He stated simply.

"Bul…" Foggy stopped dead. "You're shot?" He half asked, half exclaimed, not giving his friend time to answer. "Matt you need to go to the hospital. You need ambulances and sirens and, and…" He could feel the panic rising in him, relieved slightly when he saw a taxi approaching. "I'm getting a cab now." He said, just as it pulled up on the curb next to him. "I'll call Claire." He said.

"I already have." Matt replied. "She's waiting at the hospital." Foggy waited for him to elaborate on the answer, he didn't.

"Ok, ok, you stay talking to me". Foggy said, at least that way he could make sure Matt stayed conscious. He had no idea how badly his friend was hurt, but the fact that he had conceded, in a fashion, that he needed to get to the hospital was a worry. A normal person would go to the hospital, no question, but Matt seemed to have a way over the top aversion to them, coupled with a freakishly high pain threshold, and a big dash of stubbornness. "Ok, talk to me. What happened?" It was all he could think of to ask to keep Matt talking, hoping that when he got to the apartment Matt would in fact not be too badly hurt, and he would have overblown this whole situation in his head. He hoped. But his friends pained breathing was dashing that hope.

"There were some guys." Matt began explaining. "I thought they'd all gone down, but…." He was panting slightly as he told the story which worried Foggy even more. "One of them, he got to the gun before I could."

Foggy waited for his friend to continue, but he didn't. "Matt?" He asked gently, trying his best to hide the worry in his voice so as to not alert the cab driver. "Matt, come on Buddy." Matt shifted, letting out a pained cry; the noise at the other end of the line was enough to make Foggy's stomach flip. "I'm only a couple of minutes away, just stay on the phone, ok?" His heard some sort of acknowledgment and accepted it as an answer.

The next few minutes seemed like hours. He could hear Matt's heavy breathing down the phone, and managed to pull the occasional word out of him, but that was all. The cab pulled up outside Matts building and Foggy practically threw whatever money he had on him at the driver before running into the building and up the stairs. He didn't even try Matt's door, knowing it would be locked, instead continuing up and onto the roof and back down through the fire exit.

The apartment was dark, which wasn't a surprise. But even in the darkness, he could see the trail of crimson liquid, shiny and almost black in the moonlight and the neon glow that came through the window, leading to the bathroom. "Matt!" He called out, making his way down the stairs. The sight in the bathroom made his heart skip a beat. He doubted Matt picked up on it. "Oh my God." He muttered to himself.

Matt was sitting on the floor, back against the wall. He'd managed to remove the top half of his Daredevil suit, and was weakly pressing a heavily blood soaked towel to his right hand side. Blood smeared most of his exposed chest, neck, and arms. His lip was split and his nose bloody, but Foggy hardly noticed. Matt looked up towards Foggy and smiled a little. "Hey." Was all he said before his head fall back against the wall.

Foggy ran his hands through his hair, having no clue what to do. He pulled out his phone to call an ambulance, simultaneously grabbing a fresh towel and kneeling down next to Matt. He removed the bloody towel, cursing as more blood escaped from the wound. He pressed the fresh towel firmly in place, causing Matt to cry out in pain. Foggy mumbled an apology. It scared him how much blood there was. It seemed to be everywhere. He felt in soaking into the knees of his pants, trying to ignore the wet sticky feeling on his legs. He started dialling with his free hand. They had to get Matt to a hospital.

Before he could press dial, Matt had knocked his phone out of his hand with a surprising amount of force. "No." He said, his brow furrowing as the movement racked his body with pain. "No." He repeated.

"Matt, I know you hate hospitals, but we gotta go, man." Foggy said, trying to retrieve his phone while not letting up any pressure on the towel. It had turned red far too quickly for Foggy's liking. "I mean Claire's right to wait there, I think this may be a little beyond her and a suture kit."

"I can't," Matt said, attempting to sit up a little more and regretting it instantly as a new wave of pain and nausea washed over him. He swore under his breath. "I need to change." He said simply, closing his eyes and resting his head back.

"I don't think they're gonna care what you're…." Foggy began before looking down and realising Matt was still wearing the lower half of his Daredevil suit. "Ah." He nodded, realising the issue.

"There are some sweat pants on my bed." Matt said, shifting his weight a little and grunting with the effort. He hated that he'd put his best friend into this position, but he knew he couldn't turn up to a hospital dressed like he was, and he also knew he wouldn't be able to solve the problem on his own. He heard foggy stand and leave the bathroom and return a few seconds later.

"These ones?" Foggy asked, holding them up slightly as he entered the room.

"I don't think it really matters," Matt replied. He tried to smile but he felt it turn into a grimace.

Foggy nodded, making his way over to Matt to begin unlacing his boots. "Please tell me you're wearing boxers." He said, quickly pulling off the first boot and making his way onto the second.

Matt laughed, but it quickly turned into a pained hiss. "Yea," He said, through gritted teeth.

"Thank God for small mercies, right." He said as he began to help Matt undo his pants. The urgency of the situation somewhat defusing the awkwardness. "I told you this would happen. My words, if I recall, my exact words, we're ' _You're gonna get yourself killed if you keep this up._ ' My exact words!" He'd folded up the blood soaked pants and began helping Matt pull on the sweat pants, trying his best to block out the grunts that were growing in intensity with every move Matt made. "And did you listen? No."

"Could we maybe save the lecture for a time I'm not bleeding to death on my bathroom floor?" Matt asked, settling back down a little now the switch was complete. He knew Foggy was worried, scared, even without his heartbeat giving him away. His voice was thick and heavy with it. He felt guilty about that. About everything he'd done to Foggy, to Claire. He felt guilty about lying to Karen. "I'm sorry." He closed his eyes, feeling tired. He knew that wasn't an encouraging sign, and felt a small wash of relief when he heard Foggy pick up his phone and dial for an ambulance. He only half heard what Foggy told the operator. He knew that should worry him a little, but it didn't. He heard Foggy calling his name and opened his eyes. "What?" He asked, surprised at the sound of his own voice, it was weak, laboured.

"You ok? You kinda zoned out." Foggy asked, not really expecting an answer. He didn't get one. He looked about the room, noticing the Daredevil suit in the corner. He took Matts hand and placed it on the towel at his side, making his way over to pick up the suit, trying to ignore the blood on his own hands. He made his way over to the cupboard where Matt kept his trunk with his Father's belongings in. He unlocked it, hid the suit in the bottom of the trunk, locked it up again and returned to the bathroom. "How the hell are we gonna explain what happened?" He asked, kneeling back down next to his friend. "Matt?" He gently shook his shoulder, only to discover Matt had passed out. "Shit, Matt." He said. Where the hell was the ambulance?

Foggy felt sick. There was nothing more he could do except sit next to his best friend while he bled to death. He hated how Matt did this to himself, going out there, night after night. He knew one day something like this would happen. He knew that one day he might lose his best friend. He could handle the black eyes, the broken and bruised ribs. He didn't like seeing Matt hurt, but he knew those things were far better than what the alternative may be one day. Now, sitting on the bathroom floor with the alternative, he didn't know how he felt. He was angry, scared. He didn't even know the words to describe it.

His heart jumped when there was a knock and a loud yell at the door. Wordlessly he ran over to open it, almost smiling at the sight of two paramedics. He managed to blurt out the word bathroom, moving aside so they could make their way there. He watched silently as they worked. Taking readings and saying things that he wasn't following. It took him a second to realised he'd been asked a question.

"What happened?" The younger looking of the two paramedics asked again.

Foggy shrugged, "Erm…." He stuttered, trying to think of an explanation as to how a blind man was lying shot and bleeding on his own bathroom floor with his best friend covered in his blood. "He called me. A…a.." he stuttered again, his brain failing him. "A home invasion, I think." It was all he could think of that would explain the situation. The paramedic seemed content and went back to work. He heard one of them on the radio.

"Patient has a bullet wound to his right hand side. No exit wound, possible home invasion. Pulse is tacky, eyes non-responsive to….."

"He's blind." Foggy called out. The paramedic stopped talking and looked over towards him. "Matt's blind."

The paramedic nodded and continued on the radio, correcting the information he had already relayed. He turned to face Foggy again. "You riding with us?" He asked.

Foggy nodded, remaining silent, following them out of the apartment as they carried Matt down the stairs. Matt's building had no elevator, so they were carrying him between them on a backboard. Foggy could hear parts of their conversation, but wasn't really paying attention.

" _What sort of an asshole would shoot a blind guy in his own apartment?"_

" _Pulse is thready."_

Before he knew, they were in the ambulance on route. Foggy was sat up front. Apparently that was protocol, despite what he'd seen in the films. He watched Hells Kitchen fly past in a blur of streetlights when a thought popped into his head. "Karen." He said aloud to himself. The Paramedic who was driving glanced at him but said nothing. Foggy pulled out his phone and dialled. He knew it was ridiculous o'clock in the morning, but he also knew Karen would never forgive him if he didn't call her sooner rather than later. The phone rang a few times, he expected that. Just when it was about to click over to voicemail she answered.

"Foggy?" she sounded sleepy. "It's four o'clock in the morning, what's up?" She asked, yawning.

"Karen, it's…" He paused, his mouth dry and unable to find the words. "Karen, it's Matt. He…"

"He what, Foggy? What happened?"

He could hear the panic and worry in her voice. "He got shot." There was silence on the other end of the phone. "We're on the way the Metro General now."

Karen stammered. "Sh…Shot?" Her breathing was becoming faster and Foggy could tell she was trying not to cry. "Is… is he ok?"

Foggy felt his own defences starting to crack. "I don't know, Karen," His voice breaking slightly. "He lost a lot of blood." He closed his eyes, the image of Matt's empty, blood soaked apartment flashing through his minds.

"I'll meet you there." Karen said before ending the call.

((((((()))))))

Foggy wasn't sure how long he'd been waiting. He'd been ushered off to a waiting room of which he was currently the only occupant. He sat with his elbows on his knees, a lukewarm vending machine coffee between his hands. He looked up when he saw the door open and Karen walk in. He stood as she approached him, pulling him into a hug.

"Oh my God, Foggy." She said, her eyes rimmed red from where she had been crying. "What happened?" She asked, releasing him. They both sat down.

"He called me," Foggy answered, wanting so much to tell her the truth. She deserved to know. But it wasn't his place. "There was a guy in Matt's apartment, a burglar. I guess Matt must have startled him or something, I…." He shrugged, shocked at how easily the lie had presented itself.

"Who would do that?" She asked, staring at a spot on the floor. "What kind of a low life would break into somebodies home and shoot them? I mean he's blind for God's sake, it's not like he's gonna ID them." She leant forward and placed her head in her hands. "He has to be ok, Foggy." She said, turning to look at him properly for the first time. "Oh, Jesus." She whispered, taking in his appearance.

Foggy looked down at himself. Although he'd washed the blood off his hands and face - however it had gotten there – his pyjama pants and hoodie were still thick with it. He hadn't even noticed.

"He'll be ok, right?" Karen asked weakly, not taking her eyes away from the blood stains on Foggy's clothing.

Foggy nodded. "He's a pretty stubborn Son of a Bitch." He said, trying his best to smile. He put his arm around her and pulled her closer. They sat like that for a few moments before the door opened. Foggy looked up to see Claire. "How is he?"

Claire entered the waiting room with a small bag in her hand. "He's in surgery now, but I think he'll pull through. The bullet tore up his muscle a bit, but didn't hit anything vital and we managed to stem the bleeding before he went up so…" She shrugged, looking down at the bag in her hand. "I bought you these." She said, handing the bag to him. "I didn't know your size so I guessed."

Foggy opened the bag to see a pair of dark blue scrubs inside.

"I figured it was better than sitting covered in Matt's blood again." She said, smiling as best she could before turning to leave.

"Thanks, Claire." He said after her, watching the door close behind her. He pulled the scrubs out of the bag. They looked like they should fit. "I'm going to change. I'll be back in a sec." He said, standing.

"Wait," Karen said, looking up at him confused. "What did she mean by 'covered in Matt's blood again'?" Foggy didn't answer, just raised his eyebrows. "She said 'again'." Karen repeated. "And you spoke like you knew her."

Foggy shrugged. "She and Matt used to date." He answered. It wasn't a complete lie. It just wasn't the whole truth. And it was all he could think of to answer her question to a satisfactory level. "I'll be back in a minute." He said, walking out with the bag before she could ask him anything else.

((((((()))))))

Foggy and Karen sat in a semi-comfortable silence for a while. She'd wanted to push the subject of Matt and Claire more, Foggy hadn't.

Other people had joined them in the waiting room. Some had left already, some were still waiting. The door opened and everyone looked up expectantly. A middle aged doctor with her hair in a tight, greying bun walked in, "Matthew Murdock." She said, looking at the name on the chart she carried.

"That's us." Foggy said, standing. Karen followed suit.

They both followed the doctor to the hallway. She stopped a short distance from the waiting room and turned to face them. "Matthew's in recovery now." She informed them. "He'll be fine."

Karen let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "Thank God." She said, bringing her hand to her mouth. Foggy put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a quick hug.

"He lost quite a bit of blood, but we've repaired the damage. I can take you up to see him now. He's a little out of it still, and we'd like to keep him in for a while." She said, double checking the chart again. "The police will need to speak to him when he's more coherent." She explained. "But I'll take you to him."

"Thank you." Foggy said as they both followed her to the elevator. They made the journey to recovery in silence, thanking the doctor once again when she left them with a nurse how took them to Matt.

(((((())))))

Matt was in a private room. It was small, housing only the bed and a couple of chairs that looked marginally more comfortable than the ones in the waiting room. An IV ran from the back of his hand that Foggy assumed must be administering pain medication. He wore a nasal cannula and a pulse ox on his finger, but apart from that, he looked just like he was asleep.

Karen walked over to him, brushing some hair off his forehead and placing a gentle kiss. "Damn it, Matt." She said, more to herself. "I never knew being friends with a blind guy would cause this much worry." She was smiling when she said it.

"You have no idea." Foggy said, walking over to stand the other side of the bed, looking down at his best friend. He'd always worried about him. Matt was fiercely independent, and Foggy just thought it was his pride that wouldn't let him ask for help, not even back in their college days when a class was moved to a different room for some unexplained reason, or a piece of course material wasn't yet available for the ' _Special Needs'_ students, Foggy had always hated that term. Or the time they re-arranged the library over Spring Break and Matt had nearly broken his neck. But Matt had always just shrugged off these issues like it was no big deal. With hindsight now, Foggy understood that Matt's disability was different to what the rest of the world perceived it to be. While in some way this had relieved his worries about Matt in the everyday world, it had opened up a whole new can of fears for him in regards to his friends' safety. Fears which at the moment, were completely justified.

Karen pulled one of the chairs closer to the bed and sat down, running a hand through her hair. "I need to call me boss," She said, smiling a little at Foggy. "Tell him I won't be in in the morning."

Foggy chuckled at the lame excuse of a joke, but appreciated her effort. "That a good idea?" He asked. "From what I've been told your boss is kind of a dick."

(((((())))))

Foggy shifted uncomfortably in his chair. The sun was up outside. He glanced over at Karen to see she was sleeping in an equally uncomfortable looking position. He stretched, letting out a little groan as he did.

"Foggy?"

He turned to look at the bed. "Hey, Buddy," He said, standing to move closer. "Yea, it's me."

Matt closed his eyes for a few moments, breathing deeply. "What happened?" He asked. His voice sounded dry. He knew he was in hospital. The smells were a giveaway without him even having to think about it. Nowhere else in the world could you find such a heavy mix of ammonia, phenol and ether. Even through the pain medication his was on, the smell was enough to churn his stomach.

"You were shot, remember?" Foggy asked. He needed to let Matt know the whole 'home invasion' story in case the police dropped by un-expectantly. As a lawyer, he'd noticed they tend to do that. He waited for Matt to nod. "Some guy was in your apartment, you remember that?" He was somewhat conscious that Karen may overhear them. He though trying to feed Matt the story, rather than just blurt out what the cover was going to be, may be a safer approach. Matt shook his head. Foggy sighed. Matt was probably too out of it to know what he was on about, but at least he'd planted the seed. Hopefully.

"Why's it so dark?" Matt asked, looking around the room.

Foggy paused, not sure what to say. He knew Matt was on a pretty big mix of drugs, but surely not enough to forget you'd been blind for the last twenty-something years. "Matt, are you ok?" He asked, feeling stupid, but not really knowing what else to say. "You remember that accident?" He asked, panicking a little that he may have to remind his friend of the events of the last 20 years.

"I got shot." Matt said, sitting up a little more in the bed and half regretting it when he felt it pull at the stiches in his side.

"Yea…" Foggy answered, dragging the word out a little. "I mean when you were a kid."

Matt's brow furrowed in confusion. "Foggy, I…" he half smiled. "I know I'm blind." He chuckled, realising that their wires had become crossed.

"Oh thank God!" Foggy said, sighing heavily. "I thought you'd got some sort of post-op amnesia or something." He said, scrubbing his face with his hand.

Matt shook his head, rethinking his earlier question about it being dark and accepting his choice of words as bad ones. "No, sorry, I meant…" He swallowed, turning to face where Foggy's voice was coming from. "There's nothing. It's just black." It was un-nerving. Things had been just black after the accident, but not for long. "I can't tell where anything is." He used his left hand to feel the IV cannula in the back of his right one. "What's in the IV bag?" He asked.

Foggy shrugged, looking at the bag. "Fluids, antibiotics and pain meds I guess." He said, turning back to see Matt undoing the tape on the back of his hand. "Whoa, what are you doing?" he asked, placing his own hand on Matt's to stop him. "You gotta leave that in." He said, trying his best to sound stern.

Matt shook his head. "I can't…." He began, but Foggy cut him off.

"Matt, you were shot," He looked at his watch. "Like seven hours ago. You really need to have some kind of pain control going on now."

Matt shook his head again. "I'll be fine." He said simply.

Foggy groaned in frustration. "You won't, Matt. Shot. You were shot. A few hours ago I didn't even know if I was ever going to see you alive again. I don't care what self-flagellation 'I deserve what I get' Catholic crazy ass Murdock thing you got going on, but you need the pain meds."

"It's got nothing to do with any of that." Matt answered, simply. He drew in a shaky breath. "I can't see, Foggy."

Foggy looked at him confused. "I know, Matt. But you…"

"No," Matt said, turning to face Foggy again, "I can't see. Anything. It's just darkness, Foggy. I can't….." he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. "I can't." He let out a frustrated sigh. "I can't explain it, Fog." He continued, turning to face him again. "Everything's dull, like I know it's there, but I can't reach it. It's…" He paused for a second, searching for the right words to use. "Since I was a kid, even though I couldn't see, I knew if people were there, I could tell where things were. I…" He stammered again, drawing in a shaky breath. "It scares the hell outta me."

Foggy watched his friend for a few moments. His eyes were glistening in the light as if filled with tears that he wouldn't allow to fall. He tried to imagine what it must be like. Matt's sight, if you could call it that, was a complicated thing. Foggy couldn't quite fathom how it worked, but to have it all stripped away from you must be a horrible thing. "Matt," he finally said. "If they stop the pain meds, you'll…."

"I'll be fine, Foggy." Matt interrupted. "I know what I'm asking, and I know it's gonna feel like shit. But please."

"Regardless," Foggy said, glancing over to see if Karen was still asleep. She was. "They won't just let you pull the meds. They'll say you're not compos mentis 'cause of the surgery and stuff."

"I know." Matt admitted, sighing. "But they can't say you aren't." he said, nervous half smile on his face.

"What's that supposed to mean, Murdock?" Foggy asked, even though he knew what was coming. "Oh, Matt, no. Come on!" He groaned.

"Please, Foggy."

Foggy sighed. When they were at Landman and Zacks, they to fill out an Emergency Contact form, as well as a Power of Attorney form along with next of kin. Foggy had cited his Mother. As Matt had no family he'd asked Foggy – somewhat awkwardly – to be his next of kin and to likewise, take Power of Attorney. "Ok, I am not on board with this, not at all. In fact, I am opposing the idea one hundred per cent." He sighed again, "But if it's what you want. And you promise me that you will tell me if you change your mind at any point….." He was pointing at Matt as he said it. "By the way, I'm pointing at you very, very sternly. I don't know if you can tell that or not."

"No, not at the minute." Matt answered, shaking his head.

"Well I am." He turned to look at Karen. "She's gonna be so pissed off with me." He said, turning back to face Matt. "And with you." He sighed again. "I can't believe I'm agreeing to do this." He said, starting towards the door. "Promise me, Matt." He stopped, turning back to face the bed. "Promise me that if it gets too much you'll let them put you back on the meds."

Matt drew in a shaky breath. "I promise."

Foggy nodded and headed out the door. "Sometimes being your friend is a giant pain in my ass." He said as he exited the room, not sure if Matt had heard or not.

((((((()))))))

"What the hell, Foggy!"

Foggy had been having an argument with the vending machine when the familiar – and rather angry sounding voice - shouted at him from behind. He turned to see an angry looking Karen. He'd expected that. "Hey, Karen." He said, trying to give her his best smile.

"Don't you 'Hey Karen' me." She scolded. "You let Matt come off his pain medication? What the hell were you thinking? If you were thinking at all!" She stood with her arms folded across her, and for some reason Foggy had only just noticed how tall she was. "He was shot, Foggy." She continued. "This morning!" She added.

"I know it doesn't make much sense to you or I, but Matt doesn't want…."

"No, no. it doesn't make much sense. In fact, if makes absolutely no God damn sense!" She interrupted him, trying to keep her voice down but not doing too good a job of it.

"I don't agree with it either!" Foggy said, taking her by the arm and guiding her away from the vending machines to a seated area nearby. "I think he's a dick for not wanting the meds, ok. But I respect him enough to trust that he knows what he's doing, and that if he can't handle it, he'll let us know."

"I just," She sighed, shaking her head. "I just don't understand…." She trailed off, staring at a spot on the floor

"Since Matt's accident, when he was a kid," Foggy said, being careful of his words. "He kinda relies a lot on his other senses, you know. He…." He paused, trying to think of a way he could explain Matt's choice to Karen without blurting out too much information. "His hearing, smell, stuff like that, it's pretty acute. The meds kinda mess that up for him I guess."

Karen sighed. "He was shot, Foggy. It's gonna hurt. I don't think….."

"Karen," Foggy turned in his chair slightly to face her better. "I don't agree with his choice. I barely even understand it myself, but he's a grown man. This is what he wants and like I said, I respect him enough to let this happen."

"God, he's an ass." She said, resting an elbow on her knee and running her hand through her hair. She looked over at Foggy, dressed in blue scrubs and let out a small chuckle. ""Why don't you go home and take a shower, get changed." She suggested. "I'll stay with Matt and go when you get back."

Foggy was about to protest, but changed his mind. He did feel pretty gross. And even though he knew he'd washed it all off, he still felt like he had Matt's blood all over him. He nodded. "Gotta be honest though, I'm gonna miss the scrubs."

Karan laughed. "You gonna miss the girls mistaking you for a handsome doctor." She said, smiling for the first time since she'd gotten to the hospital.

Foggy frowned. "Still waiting for that to happen."

(((((())))))

After stopping by Matt's place to pick up a few things for him – and trying his best to ignore the bloody mess still in the bathroom - Foggy had made it home. He'd been informed that the Police Crime Tech's had finished with Matt's apartment and had apparently cleaned up. Their idea of cleaning up and Foggy's were clearly something very different.

He made it home and jumped into the shower. He exited the bathroom just in time to hear his phone beep with a message. He picked it up, checking the call log first. Five missed calls from Karen, two voicemails. He dialled the inbox trying not to panic. The only reason Karen would have called him five times is if something was wrong with Matt.

" _Hey, Foggy. It's me. The police have been by, spoken to Matt. Erm, we need you to come back. As soon as. Matt's trying to do something really dumb and I can't talk him out of it. I need your help here, Foggy. Call me when you're on your way. Please. 'kay, bye."_

Foggy had finished drying himself during the voicemail message and was pulling on a clean pair of sweats, not too worried about how he looked, as long as he was clean. He pulled on his sneakers and a clean t-shirt and grabbed the bag he'd packed for Matt, dialling and listening to the other voicemail as he opened the door.

(((((())))))

"Foggy," Karen said, her voice had a tone of desperation in it. "I tried to talk him out of it, I really did." She stopped him from entering Matt's room, "Claire's in there now talking to him. I really tried Fog." She said, almost apologetically.

"I'll speak to him." Foggy said, as she moved aside to let him enter the room. He took a deep breath. God, he was pissed off. Refusing pain medication was one thing. Stupid, but understandable. But this? This was just stupid.

"What the Hell, Matt?" He asked as he entered the room. Matt was sitting with his legs over the side of the bed facing the door; Claire was standing on the other side of the bed looking frustrated. "You can't just sign yourself out of the hospital AMA!" He half shouted, dropping the bag of Matt's things on the floor.

"Actually, I can." Matt said, turning his head slightly towards the direction of Foggy's voice. "I can't stay here." He said, as if explaining his actions.

"Of course not!" Foggy said, waving his hands around, unsure if Matt could detect the gesture or not. "Because why, would somebody who, at three o'clock this morning was lying half dead on his bathroom floor after being shot, want to stay in a hospital! It's beyond me!"

"Foggy…" Matt tried, but to no avail.

"No, Matt. No." Foggy interrupted. "The pain medication. I get that. I don't support your choice, but I understand. But you can't leave the hospital! Not yet. You're gonna….." He let out an angry sigh. "Damn it Matt." He said, quieter.

"Foggy's right," Claire said, moving round to stand nearer to Foggy. "I know you hate hospitals, with everything that's going on but you can't go home. It's a bad idea, Matt. I mean you're still susceptible to an infection, you could easily tear open your stiches. You could….."

"Claire, I…."

"No, Matt." She interrupted him. "You're being stupid. And I'm not gonna help set you off on the path to your own destruction. You go home, don't even try and lie to me and tell me you won't be back out on the streets by the end of the week. It's who you are Matt." She smiled sadly. "And I realise I can't…" She sighed. "I can't stop you from being who you are. I know that. But it doesn't mean I have to like it, either. Not this part of you." She turned to leave the room.

"Claire…" Matt called after her.

She stopped at the door and turned around. "When you're out there, do you think about any of us? About how we worry? How horrid it is to see you hurt, night after night? You're a person too, Matt. You need to remember that sometimes, and look after yourself a little." She opened the door. "Call me," She said, "When you've pulled those stiches and need putting back together." And with that, she left the room.

Matt and Foggy stayed in silence for a few moments, before Foggy spoke. "She's right, you know." He said, picking up Matt's bag and placing it on the bed next to him. "You carry on like this, you'll be dead, sooner rather than later."

"I can't stay, Fog." Matt, said, not looking up from a spot on the floor his gaze seemed to have fixed itself on. "Thanks, for the things." He said, unzipping the bag next to him and pulling out a t-shirt. "Could you help me, please?" He asked, gesturing to the hospital gown he still wore. It was tied at the back of his neck and, with his injured side, he was unable to reach around to undo it himself.

"I'm not sure how comfortable I am helping you get undressed twice in such a short time span." Foggy answered, but moved around to untie the garment regardless, before returning to his position by the door. "Why can't you stay?" He asked, leaning back against the wall and folding his arms.

Matt managed to pull his t-shirt on over his head. The movement jarred his side more than he'd like to admit, but he kept quiet. The top half of the hospital gown pooled in his lap. He sighed, contemplating his answer. "There's a woman down the hall. She's just found out that her four year old son has an inoperable brain tumour. A man upstairs has just been told that his wife has Alzheimer's. That's why she got hurt in a fire at their home when she forgot she'd put a pan on the stove. A woman's just given birth to her first child, a healthy boy. But her husband's serving in Iraq and he's missed the birth. A dad's just had to tell a nine year old boy that his Mom won't be coming home. She was in a car accident early this morning."

Foggy raised his eyebrows, not sure what to say, Matt continued.

"It's not just that, it's the smells." He explained. "Cleaning chemicals, blood and vomit all mixed with….." He sighed, running his left hand through his hair. "I can't stay, Fog." He half smiled. "I haven't even started on the food, yet."

"Then go back on the pain meds." Foggy tried to reason. "If they block everything out, then you'll not know what's going on, right?" It seemed like a logical solution to Foggy. Matt could stay in hospital and be looked after while the rest of the world could happen around him without him having to listen.

Matt shook his head. "It's not that simple, it's…" He sighed, fishing a pair of sweats out of the bag as he did so. "It's difficult to explain. Medication, it," He pursed his lips, trying to think of how he could try to make Foggy understand. "It makes everything seem like a dream, but a bad one. It's like somebody put cotton wool in your ears, turned off the lights and spun you around a few hundred dozen times and expects you to find your way when you're just stumbling around in the dark not knowing where you're going." He half smiled, turning to face the direction of Foggy. "Sorry, I didn't mean to get quite so dramatic."

"I can't talk you out of this?" Foggy asked, knowing the answer when Matt squirmed a little at the question. "You already signed the papers, didn't you?" He asked, sighing when Matt nodded. "Ok, fine. You're a grown man, you can do what you want I guess. Doesn't mean any of us are have to agree with it, or be happy about it. God knows your nocturnal endeavours are a testament to that. But you're not staying alone." He thought that to be a reasonable compromise. Plus, if he were honest, he didn't trust Matt not to be back out on the streets in a night or two. Claire was right about that.

Matt looked up at him. "I'm not staying at your place." He said, shaking his head a little.

"Why not?" Foggy asked, feigning hurt from the comment.

"Mrs Carter, upstairs." Matt explained, grimacing slightly as he shifted on the bed. "She has cats."

"What's wrong with cats?" Foggy asked. "Cats are cute."

"Yea, one or two." Matt said, shrugging. "She has a lot of cats. And a lot of cat litter trays."

"You can smell that from my apartment?" Foggy asked, a little disbelief in his voice. "Is that why you hardly come over?" Matt nodded and Foggy let out a resigned sigh. "Fine, I'll stay with you at the neon palace."

"The signs not that bad." Matt protested, with a smile of his face.

"How would you know, you're blind!" Foggy retorted.

"Thanks, Fog." Matt said, smiling as best he could without pulling on his split lip.

"Yea, well. Just 'cos I'm going along with it, doesn't mean I have to be happy about it." Foggy answered. "Karen's going to be mad at me for not talking you out of leaving." He turned to look through the small glass panel in the door, seeing Karen sitting down near the nurses' station.

"To be fair, Foggy, you didn't really do to well at that."

"There is absolutely no point trying to talk you out of anything." Foggy said, smiling a little. "I spent my law school days as your roomie, during which time I realised I have never met such a stubborn man in my entire existence on this planet. So…" He shrugged. "I think Karen's about to find that out too."

Matt chuckled, before leaning forward slightly to pull the sweat pants on under the hospital gown, letting out a stifled groan as he did so.

"You need a hand?" Foggy asked, noticing Matt had started to go a little pale with the exertion.

"I'm ok." He lied, his teeth gritted.

Foggy didn't argue. "Well, I'm going to leave you to get your things. Karen is now staring at the door expectantly and I've gotta go tell her I'm the worst friend in the world because I'm letting you leave." He looked at his watch. "Twelve hours after you called me to tell me you'd been shot."

"Thanks. Foggy." Matt said, "I mean it."

"I know," Foggy said as he opened the door to exit the room. "But it doesn't make you any less of a pain in my ass."

((((((END))))))

 **Well that all got a bit angsty in the middle, eh?**

 **So, like I said, first in a series of one shots that will all follow on from one another. The reason they're going to be one shots not a multi-chapter fic is that my upload schedule will be erratic at best. At least with one shots you get a complete (kinda) story.**

 **The next one will be at Matt's place, then a few more after that. That is, if you guys liked it?**

 **Anywhos. Till next time. Thanks for reading!**

 **ATGPNWT85 xx**


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